To the Riverbank
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: [Epilogue-setting] They were on their way home.


**A/N:** You know, I couldn't believe there was only one fic in the Dragonkeeper Trilogy (by Carole Wilkinson) section, and doesn't look to be canon either. And I just happened to also be talking to Kaito Lune about fanfic authors who write for various fandoms, so I'm sure anyone whose alerts list I'm on would have seen this little fic there…unless they got sick of my HP bootcamp stuff. :) Let's see if I can promote these books a little.

Also written for the If you Dare Challenge, DARK level (on HPFC – link in profile) for prompt #204 – ditchwater.

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**To The Riverbank**

The horse's hooves splashed in pools of water, and Ping found herself laughing at the disgruntled snort. The rain had, after seven days, finally started letting up, and while the straw hat she wore still clung desperately to her cool skin, the drops were no longer heavy and biting cold. The sun had shone again for the first time that week, seeing farmers cease their frantic prayers and grab picks and shovels and take to the land again.

The rain hadn't been vicious enough to cause a flood; indeed, the rivers as she had last seen them had run almost dry and only the last they passed had they reached its former height of glory. But crops still, despite their fasting that summer, needed a balance to grow and thrive, and she could only hope their precious produce survived. The rain would save them in the months to come, but the next few weeks would still be hard.

She looked to Jun, who felt her gaze and twisted in his seat to grin at her. His own horse snorted as another splash wetted his calves. 'I don't think they'll complain so much when it means some proper hay,' he said.

They'd had to survive on dry grass on the road-side. The few farms that fell on their way were hard-pressed enough to feed their own steeds, and no amount of gold Jun could offer changed that. The two humans were, in that aspect, luckier; fruits, vegetables and wheat were just as hard to come by but the former two had been hastily harvested when the first onslaught of rain had covered their fields. The quality wasn't as good, but no-one was in a position to complain. And they all hoped that by the time the rescued foods dried out, the water levels will have receded and the wheat ready for harvest.

Jun was worried about his family's silk trees as well, and Ping her mother's farm. They both knew Kai though; they trusted he knew when to stop the rain, and when they would need it thereafter for a prosperous future.

To comfort herself, Ping felt the dragon scale in her pouch. She couldn't see it, and there was no moon that night, but still she imagined the five colours flashing beneath her fingertips and she smiled.

They would return to their parents' homes…but first, they would make a home together. One with a warm bath and a wooden heater and a bright expanse, like the one she had witnessed in the pools of the nameless dragon-haven.

'The water is steeper here,' Jun said ahead of her, and Ping coaxed her own mount to a stop. He was right; if they got down and walked it would be halfway to their knees. Not fresh water either; little ripples spread when the raindrops hit the surface, but below was a murky brown and stagnancy.

'We need to cross this way to the river,' Ping said, shielding her eyes from the sun's glare and looking ahead. In the distance, she could see the top of old trees that marked the riverbank. The place they had, together, chosen as their destination.

'We can wait,' Jun offered, though it didn't seem to be much of an option.

'We can cross,' Ping replied. 'We passed no farm today and the road was barren. It would be a difficult journey back and there is nowhere here to spend the night.'

'Save in the mud,' Jun agreed. 'I would rathe not think about the worms resting there now. The horses will not like it though.'

'They will have to swim across the river anyhow,' Ping pointed out.

Jun laughed. 'You are a hard girl, but unless we starve the horses or turn them loose, we have little other choice. We will lead the horses across, or else we risk them slipping on a loose stone.'

Ping did not berate him; somehow, when Jun spoke to her in that tone even the harshest of insults could sound soft and tender.

And it was agreed, and they dismounted and coaxed their horses through the ditchwater. Even they, displeased by the splashes and the small rocks that marred their way, were happy enough to continue their travels. They too envisioned a quaint little home on the other side of the riverbank, where they would rest and ease their step after a long life.


End file.
